Airman's Alternate Ending
by Novanet
Summary: What if things happened differently? Would if Bonvilain actually manages to escape?


"Y-you're my son?" Declan Broekhart fell to his knees as he looked up in disbelief at his long-lost son. "My son is alive?"

Tears of disbelief and happiness filled Catherine Broekhart's eyes as she hugged her son. "You have grown so much."

Isabella ran up to Conor and kissed him on the cheek, tears welling up in her eyes as well. "Where have you been all this time? I believed you were dead. When this is over I am going to execute you."

Conor was too stunned to move. He had believed that his parents and Isabella thought he was a traitor. He wasn't expecting this type of welcoming.

_Bonvilain must have told them a different story. This is what he has taken away from me..._ Relief and anger swelled up inside Conor Broekhart, relief that his parents and Isabella didn't hate him, and pure hatred for Bonvilain, the man who took the lives of the king, his mentor, and made the lives of his loved ones unbearable.

Conor turned to face Bonvilain, whose eyes were glinting with malice as well.

"Conor Finn, no, Conor Broekhart, why must you always get in my way," Bonvilain spat as he felt the poison in the wine taking its affects on his body. "Too bad for you that this isn't how I want things to end."

With a snap of his fingers, the room filled with Holy Cross guardsmen.

"So even now you fight unfair." Conor gritted through his teeth as he, his father, and Isabella pulled out their swords.

"Kill them all. They are imposters," Bonvilain gave them a malicious smile and gave the guards a signal to attack.

Conor countered the guards' attacks and was able to team up with his father and push most of guards out the window and into the sea. The remaining guards soon scattered around the room, leaving Conor and his companions having to fight each one of them separately.

_I won't be defeated this easily._ Bonvilain heaved while the poison seeped through his veins. He took less than half the dosage needed to kill a person, but he was surprised at how much it was affecting him. His vision was shaking heavily while his knees felt like they were going to collapse at any given minute. Bonvilain limped towards the corridor, clutching Conor's wing invention in his hands, praying (which he did not do often) that Conor wouldn't turn around and catch him. Luckily for him, Conor was too busy fighting the off Holy Cross guardsmen to notice Bonvilain trying to escape, or the guardsman sneaking up from behind Isabella.

"Conor!" Isabella cried out as a strong arm bound her waist and held a sharp blade against her neck. Isabella was too exhausted to wrestle out of the guard's grasp and was surprised that she had enough energy to even yell something. Conor was distracted by Isabella's cry and didn't notice the guard in front of him that was trying to slice off his head. His father made a quick side-step and was able to stop the guard's sword from making contact with Conor's neck.

"Hurry and save Princess Isabella!" Declan Broekhart forced the words through his teeth to his son. Conor was already ahead of his father and was skillfully batting away the guardsmen that blocked his way to the princess. The guard holding Isabella captive was too late in defending himself and Conor was able to knock him unconscious with the butt of his sword. Conor supported Isabella as she hyperventilated, trying to get oxygen back into her system.

"W-where's Bonvilain?" Isabella finally huffed out as Conor tried to keep his own breathing pace normal. Conor's eyes widened as he realized that Bonvilain escaped while they were busy fighting the Holy Cross. His eyes quickly traveled across the room and spotted a guard sneaking up on his father, a sword raised above his father's head. Conor instantly lunged at the guard and pierced the man's leg. The guard immediately collapsing onto the floor, clutching his deeply wounded thigh.

"Hurry Conor, you have to catch Bonvilain before he escapes." Declan panted as he tried to catch his breath. Conor nodded in agreement and raced down the corridor steps to search for Bonvilain.

While Conor, Conor's father, and Isabella were busy trying to fight off the Holy Cross, Bonvilain was limping throughout the castle, trying to find an exit.

_Why did that cursed kid have to make such a grand entry? _Bonvilain cursed under his breath as he clutched his sides, trying to find a way out not blocked by curious spectators or the Wall Watch. Bonvilain looked up from the floor, and smiled at what he saw. The wall in front of him had a few bricks slightly bulging out in the wall, and was something someone would only notice if they stared at the wall for a while. It was an amazing stroke of good luck, almost making Bonvilain thank the gods. Almost.

Conor finally reached the end of the corridor, and went on a full-scale search to find Bonvilain.

_Bonvilain will try to avoid contact with anyone, and will definitely try to find some way out of this castle._ Conor gritted his teeth as he searched for a good exit that Bonvilain would choose to escape through. Suddenly, Conor came across a wall with a gaping hole and bricks scattered on the ground. The hole joined the castle to a ledge that dropped to the ocean, and the sea breeze was perfect flying conditions. Conor gave way to his knees and let out a scream of rage. Bonvilain has escaped.

It's been a month since the reunion of Conor and his parents and the princess, and the escape of Bonvilain.

"So you really are leaving to travel to America," Conor turned around to see his good friend Linus Wynter with a smile, but sadness tugged at the ends of his lips.

"Don't worry, I will come back after I finish studying abroad," Conor replied while adjusting the knapsack strap on his shoulder. "And I have finished saying good bye to my parents and Isabella."

"I understand. Did you hear about the different rumors spreading around about Bonvilain? There are rumors that he is in Spain disguised as a butcher, on the Saltee Islands pretending to be a prison warden, and even that he's in America disguising himself as Grover Cleveland."

"Yes, I've heard. I find the one about Bonvilain being the 22nd president being a bit much though. I'll just have to find out myself," Conor took a good look around him and asked with a wide grin, "Sometimes I feel like this is just some dream. What do you think, Linus?"

Linus gave Conor his own broad smile and replied, "You should judge yourself before you say that, _Airman_. Other men may look at what's around them, but we see what's ahead. We are visionaries."


End file.
